


turned tables

by kareofbears



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, PTSD references, Spoilers, but whats new, ryuji swears, spoils the p5 plottwist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23078590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kareofbears/pseuds/kareofbears
Summary: It’s funny. As rare as his miscalculations are, it just so happened he had misjudged them. He had told Shido that with the disappearance of their leader would cause them to run, tails between their legs and fear in their eyes.But as he looks up to every one of them, there wasn’t a drop of fear in them.Rather, it was a vast ocean, filled to the brim with hate and rage.He doesn’t live a life of regret, but he might be having second thoughts about trying to put a bullet through Akira’s skull.---Or, Ryuji has a talk with Akechi in an interrogation room.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji, Niijima Makoto & Sakamoto Ryuji, Persona 5 Protagonist/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 14
Kudos: 152





	turned tables

**Author's Note:**

> side note: i wrote this fic pretty much as soon as i finished the plot twist part of the game, so this was written before akechi has his redemption scene (dont worry guys, i love him too, but when i wrote this, i did not).

Akechi shouldn’t have been surprised that they were doing this.

In the short time that he’s personally known all of them, he saw their differences. Some were more brash than others, more headstrong, smarter, quieter, lighthearted, more careful. None of them seemed similar, and this group shouldn’t have worked as well as it did - as it does. It was a mystery, even for him, as to how it functioned, and how this group of teenagers managed to take Japan, and to some extent, the world, by storm. 

But they did. 

Only as he sat handcuffed in a police interrogation room, buried deep down underground where he had as many allies down here as he did up there, did he realize that there were two things that tied these kids together.

Their sense of justice — what’s right or wrong. 

And their determination to be better — to become the justice they want to see in this world. But that aspect of theirs ran deeper than a simple ‘make the world a better place,’ although he doesn’t doubt that their naivete _wouldn't_ include that as well. It ran deeper because it wasn’t them that had conducted that want, that need that courses through all of them to be better and to have a sense of direction. He can see them stumble through their actions, trying to figure themselves out, and they slip up. But they keep trying.

It bothered Akechi. Why? _Why_ did they keep trying? Perhaps his heart was truly distorted at this point, but even at his worst, he never lost his mind. 

The _why_ had finally been answered as the door swung open.

It clicked. He almost wanted to laugh. It was so _simple_ —ace detective, yeah right. It wasn’t a why, or even a what that initiated their need to become better. Why did they keep trying? No. It was a who were they trying for. 

It was almost ironic — the phantom thieves themselves each had a change of heart without them realizing.

All but one, apparently. Not that he needed one. 

And while Akechi has lived a life without regrets, he can’t help but feel a knot of anxiety grow within him as he sees all of them enter the room, one by one, until everyone but their precious leader has walked in. 

It’s funny. As rare as his miscalculations are, it just so happened he had misjudged them. He had told Shido that with the disappearance of their leader would cause them to run, tails between their legs and fear in their eyes.

But as he looks up to every one of them, there wasn’t a drop of fear in them.

But rather a vast ocean, filled to the brim with hate and rage. 

He doesn’t live a life of regret, but he might be having second thoughts about trying to put a bullet through Akira’s skull. 

-

“Huh,” Ann says, leaning against the wall to his right. They were all wearing casual wear, sweaters and light jackets all around due to the early spring chill. “He’s a lot less cute when he’s handcuffed to a chair like that.” 

“I have to agree, Lady Ann,” Morgana says. He leaps up onto the table and peers curiously at his face. “Though I think it’s sort of unfair that he doesn’t have a scratch on him, while Akira was beaten black and blue when he was sitting there.”

Makoto clicks her tongue, and presses her back against the door. “We can’t hurt him or sis’ll kill us.” 

“And besides,” Haru adds, deceptively chirpy. “We don’t need to hurt him now that we’ve already won.” 

“I think one good hit will fly under Sae-san’s radar, right?” Futaba asks.

A chorus of no’s go around the room, some more reluctant than others.

“To stoop down to the level of a villain would be our worst sin,” Yusuke says, pushing his hair to the side. “And besides,” His eyes flicker to the one person who has yet to utter a single word so far. “There are other methods we can conduct that might help alleviate our terrible feelings toward this deceptive man.”

Ryuji doesn’t react, staying unnaturally still by the door frame. His eyes haven’t moved away from Akechi. 

Morgana sighs. “Sheesh, it’s super weird seeing him this quiet. In a way, Akechi, I’d like to thank you. This is the first time Ryuji’s actually shut up ever since I met him.”

“But, now we have to take our leave,” Makoto says, pushing herself off the door and opening it. “We only wanted to say hi after all.”

“And to make sure Ryuji doesn’t kill you with his bare hands the minute he sees you,” Futuba says with a pointed look at him. Ryuji doesn’t even blink. 

“Good luck, ace detective,” Ann says, smiling at him without any warmth.

They all step out, leaving Ryuji and Akechi alone together. 

“Hello again, Ryuji,” Akechi says, smiling in a way he knows is charismatic. “I have to say, I’m surprised that you requested a private audience with me — though, judging by the, ah, relationship you have with Akira, you may have your reasonings in wanting to speak with me.”

Ryuji stares at him, silent. After a moment, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gun that Akechi recognizes. It’s hard not to — after all, it’s the weapon that brought his eventual downfall. The weapon he used to lodge a bullet through cognitive Akira’s head, though he didn’t know that at the time. 

He blinks. “Interesting. I thought Futaba-san specifically told you not to kill me?”

“It’s a fake,” Ryuji says, flipping and twirling it in his between his fingers with the ease of a phantom thief. “Looks familiar, yeah? I had to make Akira tell me what model it was.” He smiles, teetering on the edge of bitterness. “He told me not to do anything stupid. Rich, coming from him. The guy who played the biggest gamble to make sure the rest of us were safe.”

“So what do you plan to do with it, then?”

“You’re a detective, even if you are a shit one. It’s no surprise that I’ve hated you since day one.” Ryuji says, slowly making his way towards Akechi. “You’re a liar, you use people around you to get ahead, you’d do anything as long as you can make it to the top. You’re the lowest of the low, and the day you’re six feet under is the day I’ll pop open a bottle of champagne.”

Ryuji stops in front of the table, and points the tip of the gun directly at Akechi’s forehead. He feels a wave of misplaced deja vu course through him. “Akira told me you were about this far when you tried to kill him.” He says, readjusting his distance a little bit. “I hate you more than anyone I’ve ever met. More than Kamoshida, more than anyone else’s heart that we reformed, more than my deadbeat dad.”

He closes his eyes. “But no matter how much I hate you, if I try real hard to imagine that this is a real gun, to imagine you dead by my hands…It’s too much. I can’t do it.” 

Ryuji lets out a deep breath, and sits in the chair directly in front of him. “I can’t do it,” he repeats. He smiles, looking a little relieved. “Good. I thought that seeing you in person again would change that. Even though he said it wouldn’t. Ha,” He combs his fingers through bleached hair. “I never doubted him once, so why would I doubt him for this, huh?”

He tilts his head at the detective. “But that ain’t the point of my speech though. I hated you. In my mind, you’re the epitome of evil and scum. So, with that in mind,” Ryuji leans forward, looking directly in his eyes. “Tell me how it fucking felt to lodge a bullet through the head of someone who I honest to god think is the best person I’ve been lucky enough to have in my life.” 

Akechi tilts his head to the side, unfazed. “Do you want an answer that’ll pacify you, or an honest one?”

Ryuji leans back, and stays quiet for a moment. He laughs, though it wasn’t a good one. “Yeah, okay. That’s a tough one to answer. I have an easier one, I think.”

Without warning, Ryuji moves forward and socks Akechi right in the jaw. He topples sideways, and with a yelp, lands painfully on his cheek. Before he can realize what’s happening, Ryuji grabs a hold on his collar and forces Akechi to look at him. He is _seething._

“How did that feel, huh? That wasn’t even a _fraction_ of what they did to him in there. So tell me — how did it _feel?_ Did it feel good, motherfucker? Oh, can’t speak suddenly huh? I heard they beat the _shit_ out of Akira whenever he wouldn’t do what they said, and I can just as easily—”

“ _Ryuji!_ ” The speakers in the room come to life, interrupting him. 

He stops, and sighs, eyes fluttering shut. “I should’ve known they’d be watching me,” he mumbles. Then, louder, “You guys don’t trust me alone with this guy?”

“ _Of course not, you idiot, we weren’t born yesterday. Come back out here and let Makoto’s sister rip your ugly hair out._ ”

Ryuji lets out a half-garbled yell, before glaring back at Akechi. “Fine,” he relents, throwing him onto the ground. 

“ _Sure, handle him rougher, why don’t you—_ ”

“I said fine, godammit!” 

He gets up and brushes the dust off his clothes, sighing. “Wish I had more time. Guess that’s how Makoto’s sis felt, huh?” Ryuji starts walking towards the door, when he hears a voice behind him. 

“Ryuji,” Akechi coughs, a little bit of blood rolling down his chin. Must’ve cut his lip on his teeth, he thinks. “I hope you’ll listen to me when I say this.” He pushes himself up against the wall. “But truly, everything I did was for business. It’s nothing personal.” He coughs again. “No hard feelings.”

Ryuji stops moving, stops breathing, and Akechi feels the atmosphere shift. 

“Nothing personal?” He whispers, turning around. His eyes are wide, bordering innocent from the sheer lack of comprehension in them.

“ _Uh oh,_ ” Someone overhead mutters. 

“ _You really want a death sentence, don’t you, Akechi-kun?_ ”

“ _Makoto—_ ”

“ _On my way._ ”

“You really want me to believe that it was _nothing_ personal? That everything you did was for _business_ so, what, I should put my feelings aside—my feelings for _Akira_ aside for your goddamn _business?_ You must be on some fucked up shit if you want me to believe that, you sickening—”

Akechi sees the fist flying and shuts his eyes, bracing for the impact.

He hears a dull _thud_ , but nothing touches him. 

He opens his eyes, and inches to the left of his head is Ryuji’s fist making a dent into the wall. His hand is mangled, blood dripping from his knuckles and down to the floor. Carefully, he removes his fist and inspects it with curiosity. “Well shit, looks like I have even more control than I thought.”

The door bursts open, revealing a panting Makoto. She opens her mouth, but Ryuji beats her to it. “Don’t worry, I didn’t lay a finger on him.” He pauses. “In the past two minutes.”

He turns around, allowing Makoto to get a good look at his damaged fist. She raises her eyebrows. “You missed?”

“Shut the hell up, it was on _purpose._ ”

“Sure it was on purpose.”

He sighs. “Let’s get out of here.”

As he’s walking away, he glances back to once more to see a blood-lipped former ace detective breathing heavily on the floor. “Nothing personal, but I hope your ass rots in jail, and see where your justice takes you.”

And with that, they both leave, the door shuts close, and he’s alone with nothing but cut lip and a reeling mind. 

-

Ryuji and Makoto walk back to the entrance in silence. 

It’s weird. Ryuji knows Makoto pretty well, he’d say. Saw her study late into the early hours of the day, has seen her cry from frustration, has seen her bleed and scream in battle. He’s seen her accidentally drop her entire crepe in front of him because she’d realized she forgot to lock the door to the student council office, only to sprint back with her and see that she had actually, in fact, locked it. 

It’s weird. He knows her pretty well, but that definitely isn’t enough to erase the tiny part of him that honestly knows she can beat him back into line if he starts fucking up. 

A blessing and a curse, really — though his neck is kind of damp from the sheer amount of stress from her current silence, it’s nice to know that someone is there to keep him in line.

(Well, two people, really, but he can’t kiss the frown from Makoto’s brow, so.)

As they start to see natural sunlight again, Makoto breaks the silence.

“I know how you feel,” she says, not looking at him. “I wouldn't hesitate to call myself a level-headed person, but trying to keep my fist from his face was more difficult than I’d care to admit.”

Her eyes slide over to his bleeding knuckles and sighs. “Even if it isn’t for you, can you please try and hold yourself back, even just a _little_ bit, when it comes to things like this?”

“What do you mean,” he mutters, looking down. Disappointing Makoto is a little more painful than he’d like to admit—it’s like letting down a teacher who put in a lot of time into trying to make you better, only for you to blow your exam anyway.

Makoto turns to him, and they both stop. 

“Let me rephrase that—stop making stupid decision when it comes to protecting Akira.” She levels him with a look before continuing. “You and I _both_ know that Akira doesn’t even need protecting—”

“I know that!” He snaps, finally facing her. “Of course I know that. That guy is _perfect_ —strong, fast, smart as all hell, he’s the _package_. But even with all that, we _still_ had to go with a goddamn plan that led to Akira being beat to _shit_ and a nice, healthy dose of nightmares every other night. So _sorry_ if I lost my cool in front of the guy who made all that happen, okay?”

They look at each other for a long time, testing the other’s will. 

Ryuji doesn’t budge.

“Okay,” she relents in a soft voice. “I get it. You know I do. But in the same way you can’t lose him, you have to understand that we can’t lose you, _he_ can’t lose you. If you try doing something like that in battle, it might lead to more than a cracked knuckle.” 

Ryuji nods. “I know, it just…” He closes his eyes and sees Akechi’s smiling face in his mind. He clenches his fist, not feeling the pain. “I lost it for a sec.”

“So we’ve seen,” Makoto smiles wryly. They start heading back once more. “And though I can comprehend where you came from, there’s nothing I can do to hold back the rest of the group in making some comments.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He can already hear Morgana insisting on getting anger management therapy. 

As they’re about to leave the building, he can see the rest of the Phantom thieves standing in the parking lot, waiting their return. Akira stands in the middle of them, and, as if sensing Ryuji’s presence, turns his head to him. 

He smiles, and suddenly Makoto’s warnings fly out of his mind.

Because it doesn’t matter what happens to Ryuji. He’d gladly take poison, a train, a sword, a wave of fire if it means protecting their Leader. Maybe he should be scared at his devotion, his loyalty for someone he met less than a year ago. But he can’t help it. Akira is just so special, he can’t even begin to explain it.

He thinks of Yusuke words:

_To stoop down to the level of a villain would be our worst sin._

Worst sin, huh? 

If it’s a sin to want to protect someone this desperately, then Ryuji would gladly walk into hell’s gates.

He takes a step forward and opens the door.

**Author's Note:**

> i finally finished p5 and it was just,,,so nut worthy. seriously i love akechi but this opportunity of writing a scene like this (ryuji interrogating akechi in a setting that akira was sat in) is just too interesting. this was definitely a quick write, so if theres any inconsistencies or errors please let me know!
> 
> again, i wanted to write joker at the end of this but for some reason i just cant bring myself to do it, i do not know why. i think hes a really tough character to try and give a personality to so i have decided to...not. maybe someday. doesnt stop my from trying to write akiryu
> 
> thanks for reading! if you liked it, maybe leave a kudos or even a comment. have a great day yeehaw


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